


Widowtracer: Bite-Sized Drabble-Snacks

by TurboToast



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabbles, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, gunfights, knife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 86
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboToast/pseuds/TurboToast
Summary: A collection of drabbles with 100 words each (so far) for my favorite pairing.They're a bit like a bag of assorted snacks: All of them short, but some are sweet, some salty.





	1. Beach, Swept away

Seagulls cawed and circled in the sky, and Lena squinted as she woke up. Waves gently crashed at the shore, and as Lena sat up, she rubbed sand out of her eyes. Amélie still lay beside her, sleeping. It took a moment before she caught her bearings.

Right. Vacation. Beach. No shipwreck, no flood. Nobody needed to be saved.

If she really thought about it, there was nobody she'd rather get stranded with than Amélie. If she ever got stranded.

Lena fell back onto the towel and closed her eyes and hoped Amélie would sweep her off her feet again.


	2. Rocking the boat, Thirsty

Rifles were pointed at them with a chorus of metallic clicks as their safeties were disengaged.

"It seems the staff is a bit hostile," Amélie said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is a safe place to stay, _chérie?_ "

As expected, Lena's cheeks flushed. "Shut it, this is serious!" she pressed out between her teeth.

"What on earth is she doing here?" Morrison's voice bellowed from between the Watchpoint's defendants.

Lena cleared her throat. "Uh, hi Jack! Wasn't today 'Bring Your Girlfriend To Work' Day? I thought— "

She gasped as Amélie's slender fingers gave her butt a firm squeeze.


	3. Thirsty

I was mortified. It was one thing to have the way you look at someone pointed out to you, but it was an entirely different thing to have it pointed out by an AI.

And now I couldn't stop thinking about it whenever she was in the room. How her muscles pulled taut under her freckled skin. How her butt swayed from side to side as she walked to the locker rooms after training. How she didn't care that her shirt rode up and exposed her abs when she stretched.

I was supposed to be the femme fatale, not Lena.


	4. Socks

The lights in the laundry room flooded it with cold, white light when Amélie flicked the switch. She had to come down here a lot more often now that she lived with Lena. They both had to.

With a sigh, Amélie grabbed a basket and opened the dryer door. Finding pairs of her own socks wasn't hard, they were usually knee socks in plain colors. Lena's socks however had all kinds of lengths and patterns, and often there was no pair at all.

She had to smile at that. Life would be so much more monotonous without Lena, she thought.


	5. Adrenaline

Another volley of pulse rounds zipped past, and Widowmaker felt its heat even through her suit. She leapt off the office building, her grappling hook securely anchored across the street. Her heart hammered through her rib cage as she pulled herself up to the next roof, and when she looked back, she caught Tracer staggering at the edge she just left, frantically looking for a path across.

Widowmaker felt alive.

She brought Widow's Kiss back up to her shoulder and fired. It was the foolish girl's turn to dance, and dance she did. The flurry of blue streaks came closer.


	6. Cancellation

When Lena came back from grocery shopping in Annecy, the post box had a letter in it. People who still sent letters on paper were either grandmas or people intent on appearing posh, and since Lena didn't know if she  _had_ a grandma, that left something fancy.

After she stocked the fridge, Lena tore the envelope open and skimmed over it. It was an invitation to a politician's fundraiser. She had acquired a taste for the finer things in life thanks to Amélie, but this wasn't worth it.

She unlocked her phone and texted the number.

**Yeah nah.**

**\- Lena Oxton**


	7. Nom

It wasn't often that Lena tried her hand at cooking something that wasn't quick and almost impossible to screw up. She needed her instant gratification too much to make something that required a lot of preparation. Today, she'd been in the kitchen for almost two hours. Curious, Amélie poked her head in to find a mess of eggshells and ground chocolate dusting the counters.

Lena pulled a tray of baking dishes out of the oven and offered Amélie to try what she made.

"Careful, it's hot!"

Amélie took a bite. "Nom!"

Lena's eyes went wide.

"Do people not say that?"


	8. Cat

The sound of something beating against the balcony door woke Amélie up. She reluctantly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Lena up. The noise came back, more hesitant this time. Amélie opened the door and stepped out on the balcony, and almost stumbled over a very surprised kitten. It immediately rubbed against Amélie's naked ankles, purring up a storm. Judging from its size, it couldn't be older than 6 months.

Amélie picked it up, and the kitten licked her forearm.

Lena shifted, shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting. "What's going on?"

"We have a cat now, _chérie._ "


	9. Tall

Amélie towers over her. Even when she's not wearing heels, Lena has to crane her neck to make eye contact, and Amélie wears heels often. The height difference makes things awkward sometimes, but Lena doesn't mind. Every time she has to stand on tiptoes and every time Amélie bows down a bit to kiss, she's reminded of what they have together. How beautiful she is, standing proud, with unwavering elegance.

But Lena knows what she had to endure to still be standing tall, knows the struggle never ends, so she supports Amélie like Amélie supports her, day in, day out.


	10. Luxurious

In her 26 years of life, Lena never experienced wealth like this. After Sombra had relieved Talon of the money they stole from Amélie and given it back to her, Lena got her first glimpse of what dating nobility meant. Growing up, 'rich people' had been these snotty nobs without any idea what 'real life' was like for 'real people'. Now? Amélie definitely knew what 'real life' was like, and she didn't turn her nose up at things Lena liked, either. Seeing her spending thousands of pounds without batting an eyelid remained a humbling experience.

She'd get used to it.


	11. Edge

When Amélie went to the market to buy some fresh salmon, she hadn't anticipated she'd get stuck at this. This was supposed to be simple. A mundane task. The fish needed to be deboned. Nobody liked bony fish.

She gingerly brushed the knife's blade with her thumb, hesitated gripping it properly. It was short, skinny and sharp, like the knife she used to—

She put it down and covered the lower part of her face with both hands.

"What's wrong?" Lena's voice was as bright as ever. "Memories?"

Amélie nodded meekly.

"It's okay, just tell me how to do it."


	12. Melancholy

Lena leant on the balcony railing and stared across the lake into the distance. The sun shone bright and a cool breeze played with her hair, but something still weighed her down, prevented her from appreciating the nice summer day. She let out a heavy sigh, when the balcony door clattered open behind her. A pair of cold, blue arms wrapped around her waist.

"Sometimes I wonder if I could've done more," Lena said.

Amélie planted a kiss on her cheek and rested her chin on her shoulders.

"You're human. Do not feel bad for things out of your control."


	13. Fictional

"I realized something, _chérie,_ " Amélie said.

"Hm?" Lena turned groggily under the sheets.

"I used to think heroes weren't real." Amélie pulled Lena a bit closer. "That people imagined them to cope."

With a happy hum, Lena shifted in her arms, turned towards her. "And now?"

"Everyone has their heroes. Everyone has a different definition of 'hero.'" Amélie sighed. "Sometimes, a person doesn't even have to be special to be a hero to someone else."

She paused to softly kiss Lena's neck. "Maybe, to be a hero, you just have to do your best." Another kiss. "Thank you, _ma chére_."


	14. Deathly

He glared at her though that skull mask, tendrils of black smoke seeping out of it as he spoke in that gravelly voice of his.

"You failed. Again."

She stayed silent.

"Tracer's giving you the run-around, Widowmaker. Keep that up and — "

"If anyone lays hands on her, I will end them," she hissed. "She's mine."

As if to lend weight to her words, she ejected the empty cartridge from Widow's Kiss.

"Akande won't like this." He shot her another gaze, heavy with meaning.

She stared back.

Tracer was hers. Nobody but her would get to stop that annoying giggle. Nobody.


	15. Nightmare

Amélie tossed and turned next to her, eyelids twitching, breathing irregularly. It took a second before Lena was awake. She rubbed her eyes and gently stroked Amélie's hair. There wasn't much else she could do. She'd tried waking her up during one of her dreams before, and that'd ended with a hand on her throat and tear-filled apologies.

It'd gotten a lot better, but the dreams still happened every few months.

The dream stopped eventually. Amélie curled up into a ball, tugged on Lena's sheets. After she scooted closer, Lena wrapped her arms around her and softly kissed her neck.


	16. Blushing

Lena's freckled cheeks slowly turned red, and her eyes went wide. Amélie loved when that happened. For someone as flirty as Lena, she became flustered surprisingly quickly, which only made her cuter. Amélie took quite a bit of satisfaction from making her blush, even though sometimes it was almost too easy. As Lena said herself, it was unfair.

"Lena?"

"Hm?" She blinked, her eyebrows raised.

"What do I look like when— Can I blush?"

A grin spread across Lena's lips as she pulled out her phone with the selfie camera open. "Well, take a look, with your gorgeous golden eyes."


	17. Focus

Getting her this model kit had been a great idea. As soon as Lena had held the box in her hands, she'd asked Winston for an assortment of tools that would make a surgeon proud and almost bounced up and down with excitement.

Now, she sat in her study that she barely used otherwise, glue and paint on the old shirt she'd put on, holding a tiny grey model of a fighter jet with her tongue stuck out in concentration.

Amélie set one of the mugs of hot chocolate she brought down on Lena's desk and watched her paint away.


	18. Awakening

Widowmaker snapped awake and sat up straight in her bed. She'd lied. She had lied when the doctor asked her how she felt. Her head felt fuzzy, and she wasn't sure if it was because she didn't drink enough or because she drank too much or because they'd done things to her.

Talon had done things to her. Dr. O'Deorain had done things to her. She couldn't remember what.

She screamed a wordless cry into her hands.

It was Tracer's fault for getting her all excited and worked up. That must be it.

If it wasn't, that'd be a problem.


	19. Believer

Lena had emptied the bowl of popcorn in no time, and now resorted to spinning it in her hands. Her foot twitched around nervously, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she watched 22 women kick a ball around a field. The 11 women Lena cheered for had already suffered two goals when Amélie sat next to her.

Amélie didn't know much about footie, as Lena called it, but a two point lead was pretty hard to catch up to.

Suddenly, Lena went still, before she cheered loudly and leant on Amélie's shoulder, grinning wide.

"They're gonna catch up!"


	20. Adult

Leant over her holopad, Lena grumbled curses in frustration. Whoever built this town's web page should be fed a keyboard, one of those old school ones with actual switches, she thought. All she needed to find was how to register as a citizen, but the damn thing was built like a maze.

"Having trouble, _ma chère_?" Amélie's thumbs rubbed circles around Lena's shoulder blades.

Lena groaned. "I have half a mind to just kick down the door at the _mairie_ and pronounce French wrong until they do what I want." She let out a long sigh. "Adulting is hard, love."


	21. Sweet

"Do you actually know how sweet you are?" Lena asked.

Amélie gave an amused huff, her eyebrows raised. "You keep telling me I am, but you never elaborate."

"You always have my back. We can argue without getting loud or angry. You tell me when something's wrong. You notice when I'm down and think it's too insignificant to open my mouth about it. You— "

"Lena."

"You have that adorable little smile when you see something cute. And— "

" _Chérie._ " Slowly, Amélie's cheeks shifted towards a darker purple.

"And you can't handle compliments. You're super cute with that look on your face."


	22. Leather

Tying her hair back up into a ponytail, Amélie entered the locker room and tossed her towel onto the bench. She quickly got dressed, packed up her sports gear. On her way out, she stopped. Lena's RAF jacket hung on the rack next to the door, and she couldn't help but to run her finger along the worn leather.

It bore scars and stains, from years of abuse. In a few spots, there was a thin, rough line, where a bullet grazed it. Amélie remembered how her tears had rolled down the shoulders.

So much of their history. One jacket.


	23. Voice

Lena loved Amélie's voice. It was low and smooth, like honey. Sometimes calming, sometimes exciting, Lena was always happy to listen to it. Amélie rarely if ever got loud, and she didn't need to. When she opened her mouth, people listened, and that was beautiful in its own right.

Amélie loved Lena's voice. It was bubbly and bright, bringing life into any conversation. Widowmaker had thought it an annoyance, but Amélie appreciated Lenas quips, her joking around. Lena's ability to adjust her tone to the situation bordered on witchcraft. And what she did with it when only Amélie listened… Well.


	24. Pull

After the museum incident, and then Mondatta's death, Lena wasn't sure what drove her to not immediately kill Widowmaker when she saw her next. Was it the way she talked or moved? No, she wouldn't have lasted long as an Overwatch agent if she hesitated to kill every enemy who was remotely attractive. There was something special about the blue skinned sniper, something went on behind those golden eyes that Lena didn't understand, at least not yet.

She'd find out, get under her skin — preferably while not dying or letting her kill anyone.

Maybe Widowmaker was another person to save.


	25. Perfect

Lena didn't always feel like doing her share of the chores. Neither did Amélie. Lena sometimes bottled up issues she thought were too insignificant to talk about. Amélie sometimes worded issues she brought up too harshly.

They weren't perfect.

But that was okay. The "perfect relationships" in the media were impossible standards to strive for anyways. No couple never had an argument, no couple encountered no problems. The most important thing was that they loved each other. They acknowledged each other's flaws and worked on them. They had everything they wanted.

And that was another definition of 'perfect,' wasn't it?


	26. Home

The watchpoint had become familiar after a while, a place that made Amélie feel safe and welcomed. The last time she'd had a place like this was before Talon decided to make her their weapon. Even though the room she had wasn't big, it was hers and hers alone. No one-way mirrors, no cameras, just Athena, and even she could only listen in when Amélie allowed her to. No searches, either.

She didn't know if Lena and the rest of Overwatch knew how important it was to her. After all, they gave her a place she could truly call home.


	27. Distance

From far away, from behind a scope, Tracer was a streak of blue, a flurry of legs in bright orange leggins, a glint of tinted goggles. It was a challenge to track her as she ducked and rolled and blinked all over the place. She was the most challenging target Widowmaker ever had.

Up close, she was just as hyperactive and erratic. It didn't matter if she threw punches and kicks at Widowmaker or if she sat at the kitchen table next to Amélie, nervously twitching her foot, unable to sit still, she was still Lena.

And Amélie loved her.


	28. Sunrise

The first few rays of sunshine poked out over the French Alps and tickled Amélie's cold skin. Warm, orange light shone through the white curtains in the bedroom. She took a deep breath and blinked, glanced at the tangled mess of sheets and limbs beside her. A head of equally messy brown hair stuck out of it, and Lena's chest lifted and fell rhythmically. Amélie wanted to run her fingers through her hair, but she decided it was too early to disturb her. In fact, it was too early for her to be awake, too. She closed her eyes again.


	29. Victory

One day, the game of cat-and-mouse they were playing would end. One day, one of them wouldn't be able to escape, dodge or run anymore. One day, a bullet would find its target.

If Tracer couldn't zip about anymore, would she have won?

That's what Widowmaker had asked herself.

Now, Amélie knew that she'd have lost. She would've lost the only person who still saw her as a person. She would've lost the one who made her feel alive. Lena kicked off a battle in her head, and in winning it, she won a new life.

A life with Lena.


	30. Aspirations

"Hey love," Lena murmured as she rested her head on Amélie's shoulder, "did you ever think your life would turn out like this?"

"How could I?" Amélie played with Lena's helix piercings between her fingers. "You don't exactly plan on being abducted and turned into a living weapon by a terrorist organization." She had to chuckle. "What about you?"

"I don't think being ripped from space-time was on my to-do list, to be honest," Lena said, giggling softly.

Amélie planted a kiss on Lena's forehead. "I suppose nobody really has a contingency plan for things like we went through, _chérie_."


	31. Blabbermouth

Lena was unusually fidgety at the breakfast table today when she flipped through a catalogue. "Amélie?"

"Hm?"

"Which do you like better, calico cats or black cats?" Something in the way Lena asked made it sound like she was up to something.

"Black, I think," Amélie said, "why?"

"Oh, nothing." More quietly, barely loud enough to hear, she added, "this is gonna be so cute!"

Amélie smirked. "What is 'gonna be so cute'?"

"Shit. I was gonna try and surprise you," Lena said, pursing her lips to the side. "I want to get us some of these animal onesies, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The talented [AkaOkami](http://aka0kami.tumblr.com) drew this after [BZArcher](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher) commented! Thank you so much!
> 
>  
> 
> ([Source](http://aka0kami.tumblr.com/post/179199097703))


	32. Extortion

Letting out a tired groan, Lena pulled the covers over her head. "Come on, just a bit longer," she said, her voice muffled.

Amélie sighed, but then a wicked grin spread across her lips. "If you get up quickly, you can have another croissant."

The covers shifted.

"And maybe you won't have to wipe the living room floor."

Lena threw the covers off her upper body and glared at Amélie, her brows drawn together. "That's extortion."

She swung her legs out of the bed and padded towards the bathroom.

Amélie kissed her on the cheek in passing. "Good morning,  _chérie._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena doesn't like cleaning day.


	33. Confident

The Tracer the media had shown was always cheery, always had a quip and a smile on her lips. She never gave up.

Sometimes, old clips of her came on TV, in documentaries or propaganda.

Lena Oxton however was a real person. Amélie knew what she was like, away from the big screen, in flesh and blood. She'd asked her how she did it, once.

"I just wing it, love," Lena had answered. "Fake it 'til you make it. I knew I couldn't fail, so I made the best of it."

Amélie thought Lena was the strongest person she knew.


	34. Selfish

It took a while before Amélie admitted her feelings to herself. She doubted herself, doubted that she was worthy of Lena's affection. She didn't dare to even think of the word 'love.' After all, last time she loved someone, it ended in a blood-soaked mattress and an incomprehensible body count. Thinking that she could love Lena was the epitome of selfishness, she told herself. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if the same thing happened again.

But it all turned out differently. All her doubts and self-hatred slowly melted away in Lena's warmth, and Amélie soon became herself again.


	35. Emotion

Suppressing her feelings didn't feel right. Letting them out didn't feel right, either. On top of that, it was dangerous. She wasn't supposed to have feelings. They'd make sure she wouldn't have feelings if she showed them, so she chose not to have them.

She told herself, over and over again, that she didn't have any feelings. It was suffocating agony to ignore them, to keep an empty face.

And so frustrating, when she couldn't help it. In the field, Tracer tore down her mask, made her show her anger, her frustration, sometimes even glee.

She saw right through her.


	36. Burden

It'd been another nightmare-haunted night for Amélie. She sat at the top end of the bed, clutching her legs, and peered over her knees when Lena came in with coffee and toast on a tray.

After eating half a slice of toast in silence, Amélie let out a long, pained groan. "I'm sorry you have to put up with me, _chérie_ ," she murmured.

"I don't put up with you." Lena let herself fall against Amélie's shoulders, gave her a soft kiss. "I love you. You have your burdens to carry, and I'll help you with them as best I can."


	37. Brainwash

It was the middle of the night, and Widowmaker paced through the vast halls of her golden prison, a glass of prohibitively expensive wine in her hand. It wasn't the first one she was going to empty that night. Talon prided themselves on what they turned her into, a remorseless killer hidden in plain sight.

Or so they thought.

They stuck her here with nothing to do, left her alone with her memories. Reconditioning put a thick haze over them for a while. If they were dragging her through the hell of brainwashing, they should at least do it properly.


	38. Silence

Amélie hated awkward silences. She wasn't one to talk much, but when a conversation came to a grinding halt and nobody was sure what to say or if they were supposed to say anything at all, it grated on her, more than she liked to admit.

There weren't many of those with Lena. They could sit together quietly, and if a conversation ended, it just ended. There was no need to force it to continue. Silences with Lena were comfortable. Neither of them needed to say anything, they just wordlessly appreciated each other's presence. These moments were precious to Amélie.


	39. House Guest

After a few days on the Watchpoint, Amélie felt like a guest the home's owners left to their own devices. Lena showed her around, and people were nice enough to her, but often, walking through the facilities still felt like trespassing when nobody expressly told her she was supposed to be there.

"You're like a shy cat," Lena joked. "Not really sure what you're allowed to do yet, trying to maintain a low profile."

Amélie raised an eyebrow at her.

"I bet you're gonna be prancing about like you own the place soon enough."

"I'll knock your glass over, _chérie_."


	40. Patient

Widowmaker waited. She peered through her scope, watched the weeds on the side of the road bend in the wind. Slightly more to the left. Her target would pass through soon. Then, her bullet would catch it. Only minutes remained until—

A blue streak zoomed through her periphery. _She_ was here.

 

Amélie waited. It wasn't like Lena to be late without so much as a message, but something could always come up. There was probably nothing to worry about, Lena could handle herself.

A key turned in the lock, and Lena almost fell into the hallway, panting. "This. Bloody. Queue!"


	41. Purpose

At Talon, she had a purpose. They needed some unfortunate person dead, she saw to it. That had been her reason to exist, she'd lived life from one kill to the next.

But now?

Things weren't so simple anymore. Figuring out what kind of person she wanted to be and what she wanted to do with herself wasn't as easy as Lena made it look. Destroying Talon was a start, but what then? She didn't want disposing of undesirables to be the only thing she was good for.

Lena inspired her.

'The journey is the destination, really,' she often said.


	42. Normal

When they walked through town hand in hand, it was remarkable how unremarkable they must've seemed to other people. Just looking at themselves, they thought they'd stick out like a pair of sore thumbs, but no. Nobody cared.

They were thankful for it, but it was still amusing to think about, given how far from 'normal' they were. Amélie sometimes got comments on her unusual skin color, sure, but other than that, they didn't draw much attention.

The people on the street didn't know their past. They just saw another couple going about their day like everyone else.

Completely normal.


	43. Cuddly

At first, Amélie had been distant, skeptical of anything that involved touching for any extended period of time. She would try things out, but it took time and patience. Lena suggested things to her, but she didn't want to seem needy or pushy.

After a while, longer hugs and holding hands weren't things Amélie seemed to actively avoid anymore.

Now, there was barely a morning Lena didn't wake up without Amélie wrapped around her somehow. It made Lena happy how she'd cozy up to her on the couch and nuzzle into the nape of her neck. Lena gladly shared warmth.


	44. Diary

"Hey Amélie," Lena said quietly. She didn't have a smile on her lips, and there was a crease on her forehead.

"What's on your mind, _chérie_?"

"Did you ever keep a diary?"

"No, but looking back, it might have been a good idea." Amélie tilted her head to the side. "Not necessarily to read back, just to put my thoughts into words."

Lena's eyes brightened up. "Yeah, that's sort of what I had in mind, too," she said, and scratched her head.

"Is something wrong?" Amélie asked.

"No, I just don't know where to start, and I thought you might."


	45. Solitude

Amélie was used to being alone. In her past life, before Talon, she'd often been alone. Saving the world was busy work, so Gérard hadn't been home much. She'd gotten used to it. She'd loved him, had looked forward to his return.

Being alone had been the default for Widowmaker, she hadn't known anything else. People acting overly familiar around her had made her uncomfortable. She'd figured it must be another manipulation tactic.

Amélie didn't need to be alone anymore. Lena was never gone for long, and she'd found friends with Overwatch whom she enjoyed spending time with, at last.


	46. Regal

Sometimes, Lena had to pinch herself. There was absolutely no way a girl like her would end up here. She didn't know how she got used to waking up every day in a bloody château. It was probably the comfort. Yeah.

The person she woke up next to wasn't someone she would've dared to dream of being in a relationship with not too long ago, either. A blue-skinned, blue-blooded ex-assassin who looked like _that_ to boot? She was right there, sleeping.

She wanted to say she was punching above her weight, but Amélie would say something about underestimating herself again.


	47. Bedtime

Pale white light shone through the bedroom curtains while cool blue light shone right into Lena's face. She had the covers pulled up to her armpits and scrolled through her various social media feeds on her phone. From time to time, she'd giggle or gasp before she kept scrolling.

There was no doubt in Amélie's mind that this was a reason why Lena had a hard time getting up in the morning.

"Put the phone down, _chérie_ ," she said groggily, her eyes closed, snuggling up to Lena's side. "It won't run away."

Lena shifted. Soft lips kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight!"


	48. Discovery

Thick raindrops beat against the living room windows in the dark, and occasionally, the logs in the fireplace cracked and blew a plume of sparks into the air. Whatever happened on the TV, neither Amélie nor Lena paid attention to it. They laid on the couch under a thick blanket, and Amélie absentmindedly traced circles into Lena's hair.

Lena shifted in her lap, which Amélie commented with a disapproving hum. It'd take a moment for the warmth to come back.

Her eyes snapped open and she let out a yelp when Lena's hand snuck under her shoulder and poked her.


	49. Friendless

And to think she had been so worried. People weren't going to accept her, she'd told herself. They'd always see her as a murderer, and she'd spend her days alone.

How utterly wrong she had been. Barely a day went by where she didn't have someone to keep her company. A part of it was probably because everyone at Overwatch knew some sort of isolation, but more than that, they were one big patchwork family.

After the bulk of the conflict was over, all of them needed someone to hold onto to not get lost in the banalities of life.


	50. Heart

If there was anyone with a bigger heart, Amélie hadn't met them. She didn't think there was a more empathetic person than Lena. It was a miracle that she was as cheerful as she was when she cared about everyone this much. Amélie didn't know how she did it.

Lena would go out of her way to try and help everyone she saw herself capable of helping. She got disappointed when she couldn't.

Most people wouldn't want to help someone like Amélie back to a normal life, let alone fall in love with them.

That's just what Lena was like.


	51. Unfair

Sometimes, Lena wondered how anyone ever expected her to fight Widowmaker. She just couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger, and she didn't know if it'd been because she was hot or because she'd somehow known Amélie still kicked around in there.

She didn't know how anyone could be this dangerously beautiful. Her piercing golden eyes, her long black hair, her long legs, her reserved strength, the way she moved — she was mesmerizing to look at, but at the same time she exuded an aura of peril.

The fact that Amélie knew how she affected Lena made it more unfair.


	52. Shopping

Amélie raised an eyebrow when Lena dropped something in their shopping cart, whistling innocently.

"What's that?" She picked it up.

It was a scented candle that said 'Warm Flannel Embrace' on the packaging in a twirly font. When Amélie gave Lena an amused look, Lena's brows drew together and she pointed at the candle in Amélie's hand.

"I just have to have it, look at it! Flannel!" She gestured at herself. "It's like it's calling to me!"

Amélie put the candle back in the cart. "We can get more, if you want, _ma chère._ "

Shopping with Lena was never dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly I had to disable anonymous commenting as a security precaution. There are bots going around trying to spread malicious links in the comments.


	53. Aftermath

This could have turned out so much different, Lena thought. When she got it into her head that Amélie was still somewhere in Widowmaker's head, she never thought she'd fall in love with her. Just saving her would've been fine, she'd imagined. Maybe they would become friends. Maybe Amélie wouldn't even like her.

But now they were girlfriends, and Lena wondered how this all clicked into place so perfectly. It was all so unlikely, but here they were, living together in a château that was way too big for the two of them.

Lena cherished every single moment with her.


	54. Outclassed

Lena sat at the breakfast table and worried her lower lip, glancing at Amélie across the table. How graceful something as simple as drinking coffee looked when Amélie did it.

Lena looked at the crumbs strewn all around her plate. Amélie's area was pristine.

"Sometimes I think you're way out of my league, love," she blurted out. "You're all gorgeous and perfect, and I'm… Well, I'm me."

Amélie put her cup down, reached for Lena's hands and cupped them in her own. " _Chérie_ , you're the most beautiful woman I know. You are who you are, and that's perfect to me."


	55. Forearms

"Can you get the door?" Amélie lifted her arms — and the several shopping bags hanging from them.

Lena couldn't take her eyes away from the muscles pulling taut under the spiderweb tattoo. "I'm sorry, wha— of course, sorry."

It wasn't even funny how distracted she got. Well, to her, at least. It was very amusing to Amélie, and much to Lena's dismay — and joy! — Amélie teased her about it constantly.

"Lost in dreams, _chérie?_ " A smirk played around Amélie's lips, and if Lena didn't pull herself together, she could get stuck on those easily, too.

Lena nodded. "Lost in you."


	56. Human

What am I?

That question wafted through Amélie's head occasionally.

Am I still human?

That was usually the next one.

They used to be much more difficult questions, when she was still left to her own devices. With only her own broken self as a reference point, asking them heralded an existential crisis more often than not. They wanted her to see herself as superior. A flimsy illusion.

Sometimes, the questions still made her doubt herself.

However, now, there wasn't just a reference point. There was a whole mosaic that painted a picture of reassurance.

The answer was undeniably 'Yes'.


	57. Solid

Her vision frayed at the ends like a threadbare tablecloth, warping from place to time to moment. She never stayed in one place long enough to catch her bearings. This all happened before. Her heart started beating faster than it should be able to. Another shift, this time into an endless, black void. This shouldn't be happening, why was this—

The next shift brought her back to her bedroom, tangled in her sheets and struggling to catch her breath.

A cold hand cupped her cheek. "Lena, I am here." Amélie's voice was firm, but quiet. "You are here. With me."


	58. Cold

Amélie wore sweaters in winter. Not necessarily because of the freezing temperatures, but because people looked at her like she was an alien walking around in a blouse when everyone else had a thick coat.

Mostly, this insensitivity towards harsh climates was very convenient. Lena loved how cool her skin felt. She'd never forget when after their first night together, Lena said that she'd felt like the cool side of a pillow.

Sometimes, it was a hindrance, though. Drawing a bath that felt fine to her could really be scalding hot or lukewarm.

Life was full of quirks like this.


	59. Faith

Lena was so optimistic. The way she trusted everything to work out in the end, how she trusted her friends to do the right thing — Amélie had to learn that again somehow. Lena set a high bar for that, and it wasn't always easy.

She'd argued that being too optimistic would be setting yourself up for disappointment.

Lena had just said always expecting the worst would make you bitter.

After that, Amélie made an effort to trust more. It was a subtle change, but being able to rely on people was a relief, as if her world suddenly became lighter.


	60. Executioner

Sometimes it was hard coping with what she'd been forced to live - with what she'd been forced to do. Talon had wanted someone dead, and she'd killed that unfortunate soul, without remorse. That came later.

Talon made its own rules, Talon judged someone, and Widowmaker executed.

And now, free from their conditioning, Amélie still couldn't escape the effects of it. The remorse homed in on her like a rocket that fired when the war was already over.

She _knew_ it wasn't her fault. She hadn't been in control. Still, knowing that didn't make it better.

She wasn't someone's tool anymore.


	61. Ischoklad

Brigitte had shown Lena a type of candy once that was popular in Sweden. Small bits of chocolate, often cooled in the fridge, that melted in one's mouth and felt chilly. 'Ice chocolate,' the name meant. There was some physical explanation for it that Lena couldn't remember.

Still, Lena couldn't help but to be reminded of it whenever Amélie and her shared a kiss. The longer their lips touched, the more Amélie's warmed up, and Lena swore she melted under her touch every time.

She would have to get her some _ischoklad_ sometime, if only to satisfy her sweet tooth.


	62. Daredevil

Thick snowflakes tumbled towards the ground and melted into the slush covering the streets of London. The collar of Lena's winter jacket framed the woolen scarf she had on while the bobble on her hat bounced around with every step. Her breath formed white clouds in the frigid air. Amélie's barely left a trace.

Golden light reflected off of every surface the shopping district. Amélie looked up.

It was hard to imagine Lena had chased her across those rooftops with little regard for safety.

She shoved Lena's hand into her coat's pocket and squeezed it.

Lena was her daredevil now.


	63. Murderous

In hindsight, Amélie didn't know whether to laugh or to cry about Talon's efforts to manipulate her. The entire staff around her had been a part of it. They would avoid her, tell stories about her behind her back, but just within earshot. They'd said she was murderous, unpredictable, volatile even.

The worst part: She had believed them.

That made it even more surprising when Lena didn't do any of these things. Lena made her doubt herself, Talon, and the thoughts echoing through her head that weren't her own.

Amélie couldn't find the door and Lena switched the light on.


	64. Spider

Amélie was in the middle of putting her makeup on when there was a shriek from the walk-in closet. Before she had a chance to go investigate, Lena jumped out of it, half dressed.

"Didn't need that this morning, bloody hell," she muttered.

Amélie's eyes jumped from the closet to Lena and back. "What happened?"

"Nothing really, there was just a ginormous spider in the drawer. And I'm not even scared of spiders!" Lena groaned.

Amélie let out an amused huff. "I'll remove it."

"Thanks, love. I'm too tired for jump-scares." Her expression softened. "And I already have a spider."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change my update schedule. I'm now going to try to update weekly instead of daily, between this and the NSFW drabble fic. The reason is that I felt my frequent updates drowned out my updates for the other fics I write, so less people saw them.


	65. Purple

Amélie's skin was pretty, but often, it made things difficult for her. While Lena wasn't particularly big on makeup, she noticed when Amélie tried a new product, only to never touch it again and go back to her tried and tested collection of things that worked with her complexion.

There was an entire box of barely opened makeup products that Amélie occasionally handed to friends so they could pick things out.

One day, Lena found a service that promised custom products matched to the client's skin tone. A coupon for a set of products arrived in the mail soon after.


	66. Exposed

This was bad. Really bad. She couldn't get distracted at a time like this. Lena was meant to dodge bullets and take out the sniper. Why did nobody tell her the sniper was her?

Lena dipped behind a wall just in time for a bulled to obliterate the spot her head had been at a split second ago. Way too close for comfort.

This hero business was hard when your enemy's neckline went down to her navel and showed an extremely distracting amount of periwinkle skin.

She shook her head and pinched herself.

Hot or not, Widowmaker was a threat.


	67. Adorable

It took a while for Lena to stop being intimidated to hell and back by Amélie and start seeing her for who she was. Which didn't help much, because once you got to know her, Amélie was an amazing person and bloody cute to boot.

Lena was head over heels in love, and she couldn't show it.

The last thing Amélie needed in her situation was for some dork to confess romantic feelings to her. So Lena held back. She wanted to see her regain a somewhat normal life. Lena's confession wouldn't help with that.

And then Amélie kissed her.


	68. Drowsy

Lena wasn't a morning person. She needed a while before she was approachable as a person, and anyone trying to hold a conversation with her through her sleepy stupor would soon learn that she did have other moods than almost annoyingly cheery.

Amélie soon learned that she needed to wait until Lena was halfway through her second cup of coffee before attempting to discuss anything important. Still, she had to admit that watching Lena slowly come to her senses during breakfast wasn't something she wanted to miss anymore. Heavy eyelids lightened, and Lena's tired groans became her usual chipper quips.


	69. Someone

After she'd spent a few days at Watchpoint Gibraltar, Amélie lay on her bed and stared holes into the ceiling. There were no daily inspections, no obedience drills. She wasn't put into a box and left alone until needed like a tool anymore.

She was a person. She was someone. A person.

It was daunting. Being treated like a tool had been easy in a way. Of course, it hurt, but the procedures had been simple. There'd been no doubt about what was expected of her.

People were complex, and Amélie had no idea what kind of person she was.


	70. Careless

Sometimes, Lena wanted to punch herself. How many situations had there been where her teammates and her just narrowly escaped grave injury that was caused by one of her blunders? No matter how hard she tried to keep concentrated and stick to the plan, something would distract her and put everyone in harm's way.

She let out a heavy sigh, when a pair of cold arms wrapped around her. "What's wrong, _chérie_?"

Lena sighed. "Why am I so clumsy? I feel like I screw everything up."

"You aren't. Nobody expects you to be perfect. None of them would to better."


	71. Ballet

They were in the middle of a movie night when Amélie's expression became wistful. On the screen, a ballerina gracefully floated across a stage, as if gravity didn't affect her.

"I danced that before," Amélie murmured and let her head fall against Lena's shoulder.

Lena looked at the dancer on the screen for a while. "I think you'd look better than her, love."

With a scoff, Amélie raised her eyebrows. "I am horribly out of practice. Besides — " she raised a foot, wiggled her toes, and pointed at the dancer, en pointe "— they fixed my feet. They won't do that anymore."


	72. A Spark

Lena's heart hammered in her chest and her lungs burned. Chasing Widowmaker wasn't something training had prepared her for. Everything hurt, and she was afraid her trigger fingers would cramp in the wrong moment, but she pressed on.

Widowmaker had to be just around the corner.

Lena leant into the turn and almost stumbled, skidded to a halt.

Like a deer in the headlights, Widowmaker's eyes snapped up to Lena's face. Her gun leant against the wall, and her hand was clutched around the grappling hook stuck in the floor.

Lena lowered her pistols, gave a salute and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as part of the Drabble Night on the r/fanfiction Discord!


	73. Last Stand

Black plumes of smoke disrupted the paradisaical view of the island Talon had chosen to build a base on. What had once been a state-of-the-art facility was now reduced to smoldering ruins.

Lena and Amélie made their way into the last remaining building. Red rotating lights illuminated a long corridor with an armored door at the end. Discarded magazines littered the floor.

Amélie flipped her visor down as they approached the door. Three red silhouettes appeared - Talon soldiers.

She held up three fingers and gave a thumbs up.

After a short nod, Lena stuck a pulse bomb to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as part of the Drabble Night on the r/fanfiction Discord!


	74. Snow, Baking, Evil, Orphan

Warm, golden light bounced off the untouched layer of snow that covered everything and turned the city's buzz into a quiet hum. The sun was about to go down, and only a few other people trudged through the snow around them.

Lena's warm hand squeezed around Amélie's in her coat pocket, and every time Lena breathed out, a plume of white vapor appeared. Amélie was almost jealous of that.

Thick snowflakes started to trundle towards the ground. One of them landed in Lena's hair. Amélie sighed happily.

"How can you possibly look this good with snow in your hair, _chérie_?"

* * *

When Lena pushed the shopping cart into the baking supplies aisle, her eyes went wide. "Bloody hell, that's a lot of… stuff, love. I don't even know what half of these are."

"Well, you said you wanted to make Christmas cookies," Amélie said. "Besides, we only need a few things."

Lena already had her hands full of things that intrigued her. Amélie shoved the cart out of the way to look over her shoulder — and actually find the things they needed.

"Huh, who would've thought lemon peel is good for something." Lena looked up at Amélie and made her smile.

* * *

Amélie spent hours staring out to the sea. Sometimes, in the most inconvenient moments when she closed her eyes, the people she killed would appear in front of her eyes, with empty faces. There were hundreds of them, a sea of heads turned towards her. She'd ended their lives.

And yet, somehow, she didn't want to accept the blame. She didn't have a choice, wasn't a killer, if she could've stopped herself, she would. Remembering the way she felt after a kill tried to convince her of the opposite.

Lena's arms wrapped around her made sure it remained an attempt.

* * *

Lena sat on the bed cross-legged, Amélie's old family album on her knees. She attentively scanned the pages, stopped occasionally when she found a detail that piqued her curiosity.

"Your family is so big! Do you know them all?" she asked.

Amélie looked up from her novel and gave an amused huff. "No, not at all, _chérie_." Her brows drew together, pondering that. "I probably could not name half of them if I tried."

"That's so hard to imagine for me, love," Lena said. "If I had a family, I'd wanna know them all."

"You do have a family, Lena."


	75. Nice, Fatal, Expressive, Sockdrawer, Caught

Of all the impressions raining down on Amélie when she arrived at the Watchpoint, one surprised her the most. Not because she couldn't have anticipated it, but because she wasn't used to it.

Almost everyone she met was genuinely kind, despite the wariness hiding behind their smiles. Nobody denied her a greeting, or refused to answer her questions outright.

Briefly, a thought popped out from the depths of her subconscious, trying to make her think of them as manipulative abusers, lulling her in false safety, but the more it tried, the more ridiculous it sounded.

Overwatch made her feel safe.

* * *

 

Widowmaker was lying in wait, hanging from her grappling hook and braced against the side of a building, upside down. The rush from taking out the guards inside started to wear off, and her target was late. Not by much, but by enough to annoy her.

High up over the streets, there was a steady wind blowing through the canyons between the houses. It came in rhythmic gusts, so she had to time her shot.

At last, the door flew open, and Tracer burst out, oblivious to Widowmaker's presence. It'd be an easy kill.

She fired.

The shot went wide.

* * *

 

It was fascinating, watching Amélie's aloof facade melt away when she noticed she was among friends. The way her features softened, how she relaxed and her brows dropped a little — it cast a spell over Lena.

If Lena were the poetic type, she could write books about Amélie's face. Golden eyes, sharp like a hawk's, framed by elegantly curved brows and high cheekbones that could convey more meaning than some people could with their whole body.

And then there were those full lips that pulled into a pleased smirk when she noticed Lena staring at her face in awe again.

* * *

Of all the places Lena could try to find a place to hide a present for Amélie, why did the think the sockdrawer would be a good idea? She let out a sigh. Amélie looked in there every day, and she kept it super tidy, too. Not good for hiding things.

Before she closed it all the way again, a pang of dissatisfaction welled up in her. With its compartments for tights and stockings, Amélie's side of the drawer was neatly organized, while Lena's socks were one disorganized mess.

Before she knew it, she caught herself rolling them into balls.

* * *

 

When Amélie stepped into the bedroom, Lena sat on the floor in front of the opened sockdrawer. Her brows were drawn together and her lips were pursed to the side, as if she was irked by something while she piled balls of paired socks next to her.

"Dammit, where's the other one? I swear I saw that somewhere," Lena muttered under her breath, holding a single striped sock.

Amélie hunkered down beside her. "Can I help?"

Lena almost fell over backwards, scrambling to hide a small, rectangular box packed in colorful, patterned wrapping paper.

"Bloody hell, you scared me, love!"


	76. Mutant, Absence, Acrobat, Celebrity

The mirror was fogged up. Amélie wiped a window into the mist, stared herself in the face. Her long black hair clung to her blue skin in thin strands. Piercing golden eyes critically examined her in the mirror.

None of this was normal. Not the eyes, not the color of her skin, not the way the hot water slowly cooled on it. She was optimized for killing, being invisible.

She'd come to terms with it long ago, but sometimes it was still hard to be confronted with it. If everyone else accepted her like this, why couldn't she accept herself?

 

* * *

 

 

She waited for it. Every day, she expected the handcuffs to click shut around her wrists, to cut into her skin. Expected the fearful and at the same time somehow disdainful looks. Any time, they would drop their nice act, show their real faces. Overwatch was well practiced.

And then they didn't. There was no two-way mirror, no double floor, no knife behind anyone's back. Any animosity was out in the open. She was told why they did what they did. Something inside her wanted to distrust, bite the hand that feeds, but it was quickly drowned out with kindness.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena caught herself watching in awe as Widowmaker swung herself from building to building. She almost forgot to give chase when the assassin added a flip for good measure and landed almost in stride, without staggering. Lena let out a low whistle and remembered that she probably shouldn't be impressed by that.

But how couldn't she be? The more Lena saw of her, the more fascinated she became. She must've been a dancer once. This could become a problem.

Who was she trying to kid, really?

It already was.

She gave a sigh and kicked open the roof access door.

 

* * *

 

 

Being in public with Lena was certainly an experience. Mostly, they flew under the radar, because people were blissfully oblivious of their surroundings, but every once in a while, someone recognized her.

Lena had a sixth sense for it. She knew when someone was approaching her and wasn't just randomly walking in her direction.

Most people coming up to them were happy to see Lena. They wanted to shake hands, sometimes an autograph — awkward but friendly. Amélie didn't mind them.

However, there were also less pleasant interactions, and Amélie found herself growing annoyed by them.

How did Lena do it?


	77. Baguette, Company, Fly, Blooper

"I don't get what the fuss is about, it's just bread, innit?" Lena had said.

Only someone who's never known anything better than what the British and the Watchpoint canteen called bread could say something like that.

That was why the first thing Amélie did when the war ended was making a purchase at a small boulangerie in Annecy.

Lena's eyes went wide when Amélie came home with the paper bag in her arms. "Oh wow, that smells amazing."

Later, Amélie had to grin as Lena wordlessly devoured a whole baguette over the course of an hour, asking for more.

* * *

 

Visiting Gérard's grave was hard. Amélie could be in the best of moods before, but as soon as she stood in front of his plain headstone, it all came rushing back to her. She'd come here many times before, and she'd been alone most times. Every time she stood here alone, it hurt to remember.

Things were different now that she had Lena. Visits to the graveyard were much less harrowing with her. Lena didn't need to say anything, her presence alone was calming. Lena listened, offered kind words when Amélie needed them. Her warm hands in Amélie's helped too.

* * *

 

When the little plane's engine roared into life, everything rattled and vibrated around her, and the only way Amélie could hear Lena's delighted giggle was through the headphones on her head. Lena grinned like a Cheshire cat when she steered the plane onto the runway.

"Ready, luv?" Her hand hovered over the thrust lever.

Amélie took a deep breath and nodded. " _Oui_."

"Alright!"

Lena quickly leant over to give Amélie a peck on the cheek before she pushed the lever forwards. Rumbling down the runway, the plane's nose got lighter and lighter until it pointed skywards, racing to the clouds.

* * *

 

"Hey, love, what d'you wanna eat tonight?" Lena asked, holding a phone. "Wanna order Chinese?"

Amélie briefly looked up from her book. "Hm? Okay."

It had been a lazy day, and Amélie spent it trying to finish a novel she meant to read for a while. The hero was about to confront the villain, and it was difficult to tear her eyes from the pages.

"D'you want kung pao chicken, too?"

" _Oui, maman_."

Lena snorted, almost bursting out into laughter, while Amélie wanted to sink into the couch. She'd never let her live that one down, but Amélie didn't mind.


	78. Onsen, Stiff, Apparatus, Cell

When Lena spotted the yellow fruit bobbing on the water's surface, she thought someone had let an army of rubber duckies loose. Genji had said something of a 'yuzu bath,' whatever that was.

Lena let herself sink into the water, and boy was it warm. She followed Amélie's example and folded her towel, placed it on her head.

After a few minutes of soaking, curiosity got the better of her and she picked up one of the floating yellow things. It looked like a lemon.

Amélie smirked at her, one eye half open. "It's a yuzu, _chérie._ Hence the name."

* * *

 

The suit felt unfamiliar, and it shifted on Lena's skin in ways she couldn't place at all. She awkwardly teetered onto the dance floor, so unsure of herself that she wanted to sink into the polished parquet.

Amélie gave a sympathetic smile. She looked gorgeous as always, but more than that, she looked like she belonged there. "May I have this dance, _chérie_?"

"Um, sure, love." Lena's hand went to the bow-tie on her neck, tugged on it. "I'll probably step on your toes, though."

Amélie's arm snaked around Lena's waist and pulled her close. "I don't mind," she hummed.

* * *

 

One moment that felt like an eternity, Lena spent in a bottomless void, in the next split second, she was stuck in a claustrophobic perspex box with an eclectic collection of machines hooked up to it.

She half expected her hand to slip through when she tried pressing against it, but it was solid. She was solid.

Before it came into her mind to call for help, Winston shoved one of the machines aside and lumbered up to the box.

"Lena!" A grin spread across his face. "It worked!"

Lena couldn't believe her eyes. She'd disappear any second now, surely.

* * *

 

Amélie woke up, and her body felt like a wet sack of sand. She sat up, placed her feet on the floor. Cold concrete — just like the rest of the room. Her clothes were gone, replaced by a backless hospital gown.

She springed to her feet, which made her head feel woozy. She didn't care. With a few quick but wobbly steps, she was at the thick metal door without a handle that was the only way in and out of the room.

" _Au secours!"_ She banged against it.

The door slid open, revealed a red-headed doctor. "Welcome to Talon."

 


	79. Drunk, Goofball, Introduction, Complicated, Unbreakable

"Ya know," Lena said drunkenly, "I wish you were my girlfriend." She steadied herself. "'Cause you're bloody hot."

The New Year's Eve party on the Watchpoint had been a fairly calm affair, but now Amélie had to put in considerable effort to not snort her red wine back out.

She took a deep breath, put on her best serious face and touched Lena's shoulder.

"Lena, _ma chère_ ," she said, "I _am_ your girlfriend."

Lena's face lit up. "Wait, really? That's awesome!"

Amélie slung an arm around Lena's waist and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Mhm, it really is."

* * *

 

Amélie was about to take the first bite of the takeout Peking duck they ordered when Lena made her stop.

"Hey, look, love, I'm a walrus," she said, with her chopsticks wedged between her lips. "D'you know what noises walruses make?" After she took the chopsticks out of her mouth, she tapped her chin thoughtfully with the end of one.

Amélie raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I assume they would roar and grunt, _chérie_. Please don't imitate it."

"Fine." Lena took a bite of her own, swallowed and snorted. "Did you know they can whistle?"

Amélie gave a huff. "Really?"

* * *

 

Lena rounded the corner with her pistols up and promptly flattened herself against the wall as a bulled whizzed past. After a few seconds, she peeked around the corner again.

The bullet missed her head by centimeters and took a strand of hair with it. A few houses down the street, Lena caught a glimpse of a tall woman in a shiny purple catsuit hurriedly picking up her rifle and disappearing behind the roof's edge with a swish of a long ponytail.

"Bloody hell," Lena said, running a hand through her hair, "why are all the evil ladies so hot?"

* * *

 

"Did you get her?"

Lena's lips pulled into a guilty frown. "Nah. Sorry."

"It's okay, Lena." Winston pushed his glasses further up his nose and gave a sigh. "I know we're understaffed at the moment— "

"That's not it, big guy. I could've taken her out a few times already," Lena said, running a hand through her hair. "It's just— I can't."

Winston's brows drew together. "Why not? Not to, uh, step on your toes or anything, but..."

"No, no, it's just..." Lena dropped her hand on the table. "I feel like there's more to her. I can't just kill her."

* * *

 

" _Chérie_."

"Hm?"

"When we were fighting and you recalled… Did the pain go away, too?" The corners of Amélie's mouth twitched downwards, and a small crease appeared on her forehead.

Lena gave a wry smile. "Nope. It didn't. Kinda weird, huh?" She padded over to Amélie on the couch and plopped herself down next to her. "You'd think that everything 'me' would get reversed, but apparently my brain doesn't get the memo."

"That is terrible," Amélie said, letting her head fall against Lena's shoulder.

Lena brushed a strand of hair behind Amélie's hair. "Ah well, you get used to it."


	80. Opportunities, Death, Eternity, Judgment, Excuses, Vengeance, Love

Lena made sure Amélie knew she was appreciated and loved, whenever she could. It could be little things, like cuddling up to her on the couch or offering her snacks every time she got some for herself, even though Amélie wasn't big on snacks, or quietly bringing her a cup of tea when she was reading.

She didn't do it consciously, but Lena remembered what Amélie had been like when she just got out of Talon. If Lena could prevent it, she never wanted to see Amélie like that again.

So she showed she cared, one kiss at a time.

* * *

 

Life was short. Amélie and Lena knew that, especially since they'd been on different sides of the same battle before. It didn't take much to end it — a bullet, a fall, poison. A malfunctioning chip on a plane's circuit board, a knife, injectors with strange fluids.

Death had many faces. They had both been that face for someone before, many times. People told themselves that killing wasn't easy. They were wrong.

It was disgustingly easy.

That was why, once the fighting was over, they did their best to enjoy life to the fullest, together. And that meant staying alive, together.

* * *

 

Lena didn't know where she was. Lena didn't know _when_ she was. The concept of time passing appeared hilarious to her, it just didn't make any sense. Not anymore. Or not yet?

Whatever.

Lena didn't know if she was still alive. Whenever the endless void spat her out somewhere and she caught a glimpse of something that might resemble a place and a time, she pinched herself.

It hurt.

That must count for something.

Although, if she continued to exist on the verge of nonexistence like this forever, it couldn't count for much.

If she ever came back, she would—

* * *

 

They would put her on trial. Amélie was certain of it. After all she'd done, it'd be unreasonable for them not to.

She had murdered so many of their friends, loved ones and people important to them. For all they probably knew, she had one day decided the life of a ballerina wasn't for her, murdered her husband and joined a terrorist organization.

There wasn't the slightest possibility that she would walk free. Overwatch would put her behind bars.

Amélie was okay with it. It was better than the alternatives — Talon was worse. So much worse.

And then they didn't.

* * *

 

The silence in the Orca was deafening. As time went on, it became harder and harder to not say anything, but it was even harder to come up with another compelling reason why the Talon sniper still hadn't been taken care of.

Lena had promised she'd do it, after all.

The thing was: She couldn't.

But explaining to Angela and the others how that woman needed help was harder than avoiding her bullets while keeping her away from the rest of the team.

Every time, she needed a new excuse. Every time, she hoped for a crack in the mask.

* * *

 

Talon would pay. They would pay dearly.

What they had done to her was inexcusable and unforgivable.

Amélie wanted to end them, give them a little taste of what her life had been for the past seven years.

But all that would do is give her some short term satisfaction, nothing more. It wouldn't solve anything.

There was no question that Talon needed to pay, but not for Amélie's personal revenge. They needed to be stopped, so nobody else suffered what Amélie had endured. Talon needed to die.

If Amélie could help with killing it, that'd just be a bonus.

* * *

 

After she'd acclimatized herself on the Watchpoint and gotten to know its inhabitants, Amélie spent less time with Lena. She'd still see her around often enough, and they often exercised together. Nevertheless, their schedules differed.

Sometimes, Amélie missed Lena's company. Being around Lena was comforting. The Watchpoint quickly became Amélie's home, but with Lena around, there was this warmth Amélie hadn't felt in forever.

Lena made her want to get to know people and help out, even if some people were still scared of her.

Lena brought out sides of her Amélie hadn't known she had.

Amélie was in love.


	81. Femslash February: Days 1-3 (Opposites, Pink, Lost)

Amélie wasn't one to pay proverbs much mind, but when she thought about the relationship she shared with Lena, she had to admit that 'opposites attract' fit them very well. They hardly shared any interests. Lena's sense of style couldn't be much farther from Amélie's. A lot of movies Amélie loved bored Lena to death. If Amélie hadn't shown her that cooking wasn't all that hard, Lena would've subsisted on a diet of takeout until the end of her days.

But still, there wasn't any person in the universe Amélie loved more. Their differences complemented each other, made them whole.

* * *

 

Lena held the shirt up in front of her after she'd freed it of it's packaging and raised an eyebrow. It was a pastel shade of pink, and the fabric was smooth and soft between her fingers.

"I don't think I've worn a single pink shirt in my life, love," she said, grinning.

Amélie gave an amused huff. "Then perhaps it is time to start, no?"

After she got rid of all the plastic bits holding it in shape, Lena pulled the shirt over her tank top, only buttoned it up halfway.

"I knew that would look good on you."

* * *

The rain pelted against the plane's windshield, and the way the turbulences shook the little two-seater about made Amélie very glad about the snug fit of the harnesses.

She didn't have an eye for the storm outside. With Lena in the pilot seat, there was no way they would crash. All Amélie cared for was right there, with big brown eyes occasionally darting to one of the many instruments in the cockpit and firm hands correcting their path ever so often.

Amélie knew she was staring, but she didn't care, she couldn't help it. Lena was beautiful, concentrating so hard.


	82. Femslash February: Days 4-10 (Café, Sharp, The Moon, Disaster, Silent, Lavender, Waiting)

There were two empty plates with a few crumbs on the small metal table in front of them. The afternoon sun glimmered on the lake's waves. It would've blinded Amélie if she hadn't brought her sunglasses.

One of Lena's arms was wrapped around Amélie's shoulders, the other one held her giant milkshake. Lena noisily slurped the remainder through her straw with relish.

Raising an eyebrow above the rim of her sunglasses, Amélie playfully poked her in the side.

"What? It's delicious and there's still some in there," Lena said with a pout.

"Oh? Then maybe I should order one myself."

* * *

Amélie lazily scrolled through her news-feeds in the canteen, a mug of coffee in front of her. It was a lazy Saturday, and most of the Watchpoint was still asleep. The only sounds that disturbed the silence were the steady whir of the ventilation system and a dripping faucet in the kitchen that Amélie didn't want to get up for.

Heavy footsteps became louder outside, and seconds later, Reinhardt pushed the door open.

"Morning!" he roared.

Amélie gave him a nod.

More footsteps approached, quick and light. Smiling inwardly, Amélie pulled the chair next to her back.

Lena was awake.

* * *

It was a cool summer night on the Watchpoint. Moths buzzed around the incandescent lights illuminating the walkways, and the red warning lamps on top of the masts and launch ramps flashed steadily, like usual.

Amélie couldn't sleep. Intrusive thoughts kept her awake, so she'd left her room and headed for that spot on the stairs behind one of the utility buildings, where only the moon would keep her company.

She didn't know what she was doing here. She was still alone with the thoughts.

"Hey," Lena said quietly, next to her.

Amélie flinched. "What if I have a relapse?"

* * *

"Oh god dammit!" Lena yelled over the fire alarm.

Thick white plumes billowed to the ceiling from some pots on the stove, and the bitingly sweet smell of burnt food assaulted Amélie's nose.

With a few quick steps, Amélie got two lids out of the cupboard, covered the smoking containers and shoved them off the heat. After she opened the window, she got a chair to reach the smoke detector. Finally, its incessant beeping stopped.

"Sorry," Lena mumbled. "The chicken was still raw inside, so I turned the heat up..."

"It's okay. Just use less heat next time," Amélie said.

* * *

When Lena padded into the kitchen, her hair was even more tousled than usual. The way she hung her head and listlessly slouched about wasn't like her at all.

She'd tossed and turned all night, but when Amélie had gotten out of bed, Lena had been sleeping soundly, tangled up in her sheets. Whenever that happened, Lena usually had a nightmare.

Without a word, Amélie handed her a big mug of hot chocolate and tightly wrapped her arms around her from behind.

Lena leant onto her. Softly blowing on her hot chocolate, she let her head fall against Amélie's shoulder.

* * *

Lena wasn't sure whether or not Amélie did it intentionally, but the perfume she used fit her perfectly. Whenever Lena spent time with Amélie, that flowery, slightly sweet smell rose into her nose. Unable to place the scent, it piqued Lena's curiosity to find out exactly what it was.

Lena had never asked. But today, when she stepped out of the shower, she sated her curiosity and opened Amélie's side of the bathroom cabinet. She found a plain but hefty flask, labeled 'lavande et caramel.'

Grinning to herself, Lena put it back. No wonder the scent fit her so well.

* * *

She had laid here motionless for hours, on top of a building in a rainy night. Droplets ran down her lenses, distorting her vision momentarily. No matter how uncomfortable the situation was, she kept Widow's Kiss trained at the spot where her target was supposed to emerge sooner or later. Currently, it looked more like the latter.

On missions like these, Widowmaker found herself getting bored more and more lately. There was no thrill to them, almost no chance of someone discovering her before she took the shot.

At this point, she almost wanted Tracer to show up and interfere.

 


	83. Femslash February: Days 11-17 (Rest Day, Balloons, The Sun, White, Umbrellas, Blue, Damned)

While the training schedule on the Watchpoint certainly couldn't be called 'draconic,' it couldn't be called 'easy going' by any stretch of the imagination, either. The agents all needed to be fit for battle, after all, no matter how diverse their fields of application were. Angela made them keep themselves in tip top shape.

Today was one of the few days they could all take a breather, though. When their morning run was over, Lena itched for more. She already couldn't sit still on most days, but today, she fidgeted even more.

"That's it, you're not getting any coffee today."

* * *

Amélie pulled herself up onto her perch and got into position. Laying flat on her stomach, she brought her rifle's stock up to her cheek, its muzzle barely poking out over the platform she lay on. She took a deep breath and switched the safety off.

Moments after, the starting klaxon sounded. Amélie pulled the bolt back, chambered the first round and held her breath for the first target.

But nothing came.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Lena's voice sounded through the PA system. "Nah, love, all good!"

A row of balloons rose up from behind cover, spelling 'Happy Birthday.'

* * *

A warm summer breeze blew inland, and the sunshade Amélie lay under shifted slightly. She sat up and took her sunglasses off.

"I want to go for a swim, _chérie_ ," she said. "Do you want to join me?"

Jumping to her feet, Lena grinned. "Of course! D'you want to race?"

Amélie shook her head, but a smile tugged on the corners of her lips. "No, I think I just want to enjoy the water."

As she stepped out from under the sunshade, the heat was intense. Her brows drew together and she glanced at Lena.

"Did you put on sunscreen?"

* * *

Amélie knocked on Lena's door with a mixture of excitement and nervosity fluttering around in her stomach.

"I'll be right out, love," Lena's voice sounded from inside.

There was a rustle of fabric, and the door flew open. They stared at each other for a moment.

For the first time since Amélie met her, Lena wore a dress — and not any dress. It was a white sundress, and Lena looked stunning in it, even with the chronal accelerator strapped to her chest. She'd even put on some lip gloss.

"You look absolutely stunning, _ma chère_ ," Amélie said quietly.

"Thank you!"

* * *

Rainwater ran down their umbrellas' ribs and collected in a puddle on the tiled floor in the hallway. The raindrops still pelted against the windows and the weather showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.

Perfect inside weather. Nobody would blame them if they stayed in today, lazing about on the couch talking about everything and nothing.

Not that they needed an excuse for that, but spending time together all cozy while the outside was anything but had something special.

Under the blanket, even Amélie's cold skin eventually warmed up, and Lena nestled into her embrace, nursing her tea.

* * *

Lena had been staring at her for quite some time now, with that familiar crease on her forehead that appeared when she was deep in thought about something.

Amélie raised a brow at her. "What is troubling you?"

"I always say you're blue, but I wonder if that's even true," Lena said. "I'm terrible at naming colors. You could show me a million shades and I'd just think they're all blue or green or whatever, when there are words for every one of them."

Amélie looked down at her forearm and cocked her head. "I would say I am periwinkle."

* * *

Why would anyone be nice to her? Why would anyone offer a helping hand or an ear to listen? To her, of all people?

She was a murderer. She had killed hundreds of people, and she had _liked_ it. She was a monster.

She was a monster, and still, Lena came to talk to her every day. Like she was just any other person, a normal person that deserved the attention. The affection, even.

Part of her wanted to push Lena away — the same part that made her hesitate whenever she was offered help.

But in the end, she didn't.


	84. Femslash February: Days 18-24 (Safe, Vanilla, Hate, Wings, Shopping, Gold, Blessed)

Lena wasn't one to shy away from a fight, if she couldn't avoid it. Amélie wasn't, either. They would bare their fangs whenever the need arose, and their fangs were long and sharp.

And yet, there was no safer place for them than in each other's arms. Amélie's embrace was always chilly at first, but eventually, Lena's warmth seeped into her.

Whenever they were together, the strong arms that held a gun or a rifle before became comforting, the fangs disappeared. As they held each other, the defenses went down, and they could be themselves together, in their own safety.

* * *

"Hey, can I— " Lena said, before she accidentally raked a small cylindrical object off the counter, which promptly shattered on the kitchen floor. "Aw fuck."

Amélie gave a sigh and grabbed a roll of paper towels, handing it to Lena. Carefully, they picked the tiny glass shards up together and wiped up the liquid that had been contained in the phial.

"Sorry." Lena crumpled up another paper towel and threw it in the trash. "What was in there, anyways?"

Amélie stopped wiping and raised an eyebrow. "You can't smell it?"

And then the smell rose into Lena's nose, overwhelmingly sweet.

* * *

Riling people up against each other is a powerful tool. In the end, the reasons don't matter, the people who lose their lives because of it don't care for them, and those who wield the tool don't care they died. To them, lives are just an asset, and hatred is their catalyst.

Listening to Doomfist for long enough made Amélie hypersensitive to people stoking it. Even if hidden in the most benign statements, divisive manipulation strategies made the hair on her neck stand on end.

Lena felt the same, living proof that her suspicions weren't a figment of her imagination.

* * *

In an aggressive V-shape, the Slipstream's wings spread out from its hull. Looking at it parked in its well guarded hangar made the butterflies in Lena's stomach do back-flips with excitement. In the rear, where the wings ran together in a point, the Slipstream's party trick waited to be tested for the first time.

Lena couldn't wait.

She'd always been a speed demon, and at some point, traveling at several times the speed of sound just wasn't enough anymore.

This would be an entirely different beast. If she was honest, going faster than time made her feel a bit uneasy.

* * *

"Hey, look, love, they've got a new flavor of that yoghurt!" Lena said, pointing at a flashy display that blocked half the aisle. "Limited edition!"

Amélie rolled her eyes. "They always say that when they're testing something, _chérie_. I picked up milk, what else do we need?"

"But darling, it's cranberry flavored!"

Stopping the shopping cart, Amélie looked at Lena with half-lidded eyes. "Oh, _ma chère_ , you want that yoghurt, don't you, hm?" she asked, her voice low.

Lena froze in place, blushing over both ears. "Y-yes."

"Well, if you promise you will stay on track, you can take two."

* * *

Lena had never seen eyes like Amélie's. Depending on how the light struck them, they could be a deep golden color or impossibly bright.

They hadn't always been like that, and Lena knew the way Amélie got them wasn't a pleasant memory for her. Still, Lena thought they were beautiful.

She adored the mischievous glint sparkling in them whenever Amélie teased her, and the way she fixed people who annoyed her in a cold, steely glare sent shivers down Lena's spine.

And even if Amélie's skin was cold, the affectionate warmth in her eyes made Lena feel right at home.

* * *

After years of being used, years of fighting and death, Amélie had found a home. It had taken a while to adjust to the peace, but now?

Now she had everything she could ever need and people to share it with. Sometimes, she wondered how long it would take before something threatened it all.

She might not show it much, but she would fight tooth and nail again, without hesitation. After what she had been through, she would never take this kind of life for granted, and she cherished every moment she spent with what was now her new family.

 


	85. Femslash February: Days 25-28 (Split, Comfort, Space, Princess)

Angela had suggested integrating some gymnastics into her training. At first, Amélie had been indifferent about it, but after a while, she'd grown to like the idea.

This morning, she'd dragged some gym mats into a corner, and now, she started with what she could remember from her warm-up routines.

'Warming up' was a funny concept now.

She was just about done stretching when Lena walked in, a towel around her neck and a skipping rope in her hand.

Just to see if she could, Amélie spread her legs and lowered herself to the floor.

Lena gaped. "I'm so gay."

* * *

Every once in a while, the memories came back with a vengeance. Amélie knew she shouldn't blame herself for what she was made to do, but that knowledge didn't do anything to make the images go away.

Amélie didn't try to hide it when it happened, not anymore. Lena picked up on it even if she did, and after a while, she'd learned it helped talking about it.

And Lena was good at listening. She didn't judge, just offered a cuddle and some tea while Amélie recounted yet another harrowing tale. Truthfully, Amélie didn't know what she'd do without her.

* * *

Because the Watchpoint had originally been built to house many more people than it did now, finding some space for yourself didn't pose too much of a challenge. That suited Amélie just fine — she needed her alone time. While the Watchpoint wasn't exactly overpopulated, there were still a lot of people going about their day there, and that meant you couldn't count on being left alone in the common areas.

There were many buildings where she could be alone with her thoughts, though. And Lena knew not to disturb her there, too, although Amélie's thoughts not rarely revolved around her.

* * *

Princess, comtesse — Lena didn't care much for the distinction. The fact that Amélie was of noble descent didn't matter much in their everyday lives. That was maybe what surprised Lena the most. Growing up, rich people and nobles were the bad guys. They didn't understand what life was like for the less fortunate.

Lena hadn't met any other nobles besides Amélie, but so far, Amélie had defied most of Lena's childhood expectations. Sure, occasionally something about her behavior revealed the privilege Amélie had grown up with, but Lena would never have guessed she was noble if Amélie hadn't told her.


	86. Cake Mistake, Party Hats, Milestones

"Hey, what's in that box on the counter?" Lena asked, pointing at said box with her fork.

Amélie swallowed her food. "A cake. I ordered one for Angela's and Fareeha's anniversary."

"Ooh! What kind is it?"

"I think it is 'bee sting cake' in English?" Her brows drew together, searching for words.

Coughing, Lena fished for a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. "Love, Angela's allergic to almonds!"

Amélie's shoulders slumped almost unnoticeably, and she let her hands sink to the table. "I didn't know."

"That's alright, we can just make a new one. What do we have in the pantry?"

* * *

 

"This is stupid." Amélie's lips pressed into a thin line as she tugged the string under her chin.

That made the paper hat decorated with stars and printed-on confetti bob around on her updo that must've taken a talented stylist hours to get right. Lena barely stifled her snickering.

"Aw, c'mon, love, it suits you!"

Amélie glared daggers at her. "It 'suits me,' Lena? I am not sure whether I should be flattered by that."

"Of course you should! Look, you're bloody gorgeous. I'm sorry this party isn't as high brow, but — that hat, on you? Really fits your style."

* * *

 

Escape Talon. Become a person again. Come to terms with the guilt.

Find love.

If someone had told Widowmaker years ago that she'd be able to accomplish all of these things, she would've laughed dryly at whoever told her that before ramming their nose into their skull, because surely, they had made fun of her.

How far she had come!

Right beside her, Lena slept soundly amidst a pile of tangled sheets, her chest rising and falling slowly. Who would've thought this dork would be who set it all in motion?

Certainly not Widowmaker. But Amélie was very, very glad.


End file.
